The Mediator
by Amelia Glitter
Summary: Most people don't see ghosts; most people just see the result of what a ghost does. Not me, oh no, not Duo. I can see them and talk to them. In fact, it's my destiny to help them move on. Sounds like fun right? Wrong. *AU*shounen-ai*surprise pairings*
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Mediator

**Summary:** Most people don't see ghosts; most people just see the result of what a ghost does. Not me, oh no, not Duo. I can see them and talk to them. In fact, it's my destiny to help them move on. Sounds like fun right? Wrong. [shounen-ai, surprise pairings]

**Warnings:** Supernatural phenomena, various random pairings, crazy authoress, Ozarkers, teen drama and death of a lot of people because they're ghosts

**Disclaimer:** The characters of Gundam Wing are not mine. The general idea for this story is based on _The Mediator_ series by Meg Cabot. No profit is being made by me for this story. The town and surrounding area this story takes place in is a slightly altered version of several towns in my area. Any resemblance to a place you know/live/drove through is entirely coincidental, unless you know/live/drove through about seven different towns in Southern Missouri.

Chapter One

My first glimpse of my new home town isn't very impressive. There are a lot of little stores, quite a few churches and lots of people wandering about. Sadly, those people don't actually live here. Most of them, I'm told, are tourists, who come for the river, springs and caves of the area. Apparently the place is a beehive during the summer months, but shrinks down to its normal population of three thousand or so during the winter.

Mom is trying to tell me how wonderful this place is going to be. In fact, she's spent the last three hours telling me how great it is to live away from the city, how amazing the school is, how nice the neighbors are and everything in between. Howard keeps backing her up, jumping in with some details about horseback riding or hiking or something appropriately outdoorsy. Marymaia, the only one of my new stepsisters who wanted to make the day trip to the airport to get me, is bouncing up and down and adding her two cents every fifteen seconds. My two cats, Lucy Fur and De'Mon are also letting everyone know their opinions, which are probably very impolite.

"Did you know that we have over a thousand acres of land behind the house? There's plenty of space for a garden. We can grow our own vegetables, even! Can you imagine Duo?"

"Your mother's right. One of our neighbors, Mrs. Hannabrink, grows the best strawberries in the county. I'm sure she'd provide any help you needed."

"In terms you might know, Duo, we own two square miles of land. That's roughly equivalent to eight hundred square city blocks in New York City. Here in the Midwest, however, two square miles would equal five hundred and twelve square city blocks."

I give Marymaia a crooked look. "Did you just do all that in your _head_?"

"Conversion of round numbers isn't hard, especially with units made to be easily converted from one to the other. I had to look up the conversion factors for city blocks on the Internet, but the actual math is very simple."

"If you say so," I respond. She might be just twelve, but I will gladly admit she's probably several times smarter than me. This kid could be useful to have around, to help with homework and stuff. I'm not too proud to ask a twelve-year-old for help with math homework.

While I'm pondering the uses of my new little sister, Mom and Howard recover from their shock at what Marymaia said. They start talking again, falling into the same pattern. I tune them out. I'm a teenager after all, staring moodily out the window while ignoring my mom and stepfather is expected.

Not that the view is particularly exciting. We seem to be just at the edge of town. There are still quite a few houses; some of them are pretty nice, with lots of space between. I see a couple of horses, plenty of dogs and a pretty little church.

I'm sort of dozing when something Howard says makes me sit bolt upright. He's talking about the new house, which is apparently large enough for all four children to have our own rooms. Apparently I get my own bathroom, too, as I'm a boy and the girls weren't keen on sharing. Mom and Howard have a room downstairs. The kitchen is big; the deck has a gorgeous view-blah, blah, blah. This sounds great, in fact, the place sounds kind of cool.

But, "how old did you say this place was?" I demanded shrilly.

Howard grinned hugely. "Built in the late 1800s and newly renovated by yours truly in the early 21st century."

Apparently he thinks this is exciting. I'm not so sure. "Did people even live in this place at that time? I mean, in something besides a log cabin?" I laughed kind of nervously.

"Oh sure," Howard answers. "The Oller House-that's what the old place is called-was built by James Oller for his young bride. She wanted a place to feel at home. She was from the East Coast, so she wanted a house like the ones she was used to back home. It's quite Victorian; really beautiful."

"Yeah, sure, beautiful."

"Is something wrong Duo?" Howard asked.

Mom answered before I could. "Duo has an odd dislike of old buildings."

I can _hear_ her pursing her lips. Mom doesn't like to be reminded of some of her son's quirks, such as disliking old buildings. I also don't like hospitals, for the same reason. Old buildings are better than hospitals. With a hospital you know lots of people have died there. In a regular building, your chances are slimmer, but they increase with the building's age. Old buildings equal dead people; dead people equal ghosts. Granted, this isn't a normal fear for most people. I don't really fall under the category of 'most people'.

I can see ghosts; not just see them, but touch them and hear them. To me, ghosts are just like living, breathing people.

A few people see one, maybe two, in their entire lives. Many people see what a ghost can do, like moving things, making cold spots, sending electronics on the fritz, that kind of stuff. Most of these kinds of ghosts are annoying, but that's about it. Sometimes they'll have a cool history, but they mostly just like to piss people off. These kinds make up about fifteen percent of the ghost world. The rest of the ghosts no one ever notices, because they're mostly just confused, lost, and in desperate need of help.

That's where I come in. I help ghosts move on to the afterlife, or heaven, or the next life, or whatever. I'm not really concerned with where they go, as long as they leave. I'm a go-between for the living and dead. Want to tell the police who shot you? I'm your guy. Need to let your son know that you don't blame him for the car crash that killed you? Call Duo Maxwell.

It all started when I was really young. I very distinctly remember my first ghost as a sort of sad looking woman on the stoop of our apartment building. She didn't do much but stand there and stare at us as Mom and I went past. I wondered at the time why Mom didn't speak to her. It didn't take long for me to figure out that Mom couldn't see these people like I could. It also didn't take long for me to figure out that I shouldn't talk about people no one else could see.

I don't remember when I realized that these people were dead. There aren't a lot of obvious clues. Ghosts look just like everyone else, except for a nice little glow-or aura-and occasionally out-of-date clothing. That's where most of the movies get it wrong, you know. Ghosts always appear as they looked when at their most vital and alive. I have never seen a ghost carrying around his head or with half his face missing.

Anyway, having this ability gives me some rather odd quirks, dislike of old buildings being just one of them. I also happen to spend an inordinate amount of time in said old buildings, plus churches, mosques, cemeteries, libraries and hospitals. I get drug home by the police occasionally, usually for trespassing, breaking and entering or loitering. Nothing has ever gone on any kind of permanent record-not even that time I was caught performing an exorcism in Central Park.

Otherwise, I'm fairly normal. I'm pretty average when it comes to height, a bit on the skinny side and in pretty good shape. I'm not terribly athletic, but I do ride my bike pretty often and can kick some major ghost-butt when necessary. I inherited my mother's blue-violet eyes and my father's golden-brown hair. I grow my hair really long-about to my waist-as a memorial to my great-grandmother, who kept her hair down to her knees, even at the age of ninety. I dress like any teenager, in jeans and t-shirts for the most part.

I've pretty much decided to sulk for the rest of the drive, which isn't very long. This puts me off even more. I mean, how can I make a point if I only have a few minutes to do it? Not very well, because no one really notices I'm sulking. I guess staring moodily out the window and sulking are too close for an obvious change of attitude.

As we pull up to the house I realize that it is quite pretty, beautiful in fact. I can see why my mother likes it so much.

It's quite the rambling type of place; very Victorian meets Southern Plantation home. From what I can see there is a huge wraparound deck, big bay windows, and quite a lot of little nooks and crannies and even a turret sticking out of the back. Mom and Howard painted it a bright sky blue with cream trim. The yard and landscaping is a bit sad, but they just recently finished the renovations, so I'll let that slide.

Lucrazia and Hilde are standing on the deck, waiting to warmly greet their new stepbrother. I've only met them once before, at our parents' wedding, but my impression of them is still the same. Lucrazia is long and gangly, rather athletic and quite the tomboy. She'll be a senior when the school year starts, which makes her two years older than me. Hilde is exactly the opposite: short, curvy and girly. Hilde is a couple of months younger than me, and is a sophomore as well. Both of them have black hair and blue eyes. Marymaia is the youngest and my favorite so far. She looks nothing like her sisters, all freckles and red hair and sunny smile.

I allow Marymaia to grab my hand and begin my Grand Tour of the Maxwell-Akers Home. We start in the entrance hall, which is just a little room to hang your coat and wipe your shoes. The entrance hall opens up into the grand parlor room-I'm not making this stuff up, the kid is telling me-which, when this house was built, was used to formally entertain guests. We're apparently using it as a family and living room now, since this is where the TV has been located. Next to the grand parlor room is the formal dining room, which will be used for just that. Next to the dining room is the kitchen, which is big enough to contain my mom and all of her culinary experiments, unlike our dinky apartment kitchens in the city. There's a breakfast nook with a big window seat in this huge bay window. I think the nook is part of the round turret in the back of the house. Back through the dining room and into the family room. Attached to family room is a landing area which grants access to two smaller rooms, which have been converted into a library (for Mom's book collection) and an office (for Howard and Mom)a bathroom and the staircase, which curves up and down.

We go downstairs first, which is where Mom and Howard will be making their home. Weirdly enough, the basement actually opens out onto a patio. The house is built on a hill, which gives it the illusion of only two floors and the loft in the front, but there are actually three stories. They have a nice little den downstairs, with Howard's exercise equipment, more of Mom's books and their own TV. They have a huge bedroom, a giant bathroom and a walk in closet. Quite the posh little set up. The basement used to just be storage, but Howard decided to put the master suite downstairs.

Marymaia marches me back upstairs, all the way to the second floor. Here is where we children will be living. Five doors open up off the landing. Two of these doors lead to rooms for Hilde and Marymaia. A third opens to the very narrow staircase which leads to Lucrazia's loft room. The center door is a very large bathroom with two sinks, lots of mirrors, a tub and a shower.

The final door, Marymaia informs me, is my room. It used to be the master bedroom, but Mom and Howard preferred to make their own master suite downstairs. However, because it used to be the master bedroom, it comes complete with the old master bath. Thus I have my own bathroom, which might not be as big as the girls', but I don't have to share it.

During this whole tour I haven't seen a single ghost. I'm beginning to think I'm the luckiest person in the world. Apparently no one ever died and left some sort of unfinished business behind. I mentally start doing a victory dance.

The victory dance is cut short as soon as Marymaia opens the door, because there is a ghost in my room. He's sitting very nonchalantly in my beautiful window seat with its great view of the backyard. I scowl slightly, but I plan on ignoring him until Marymaia goes away.

My room is very nice-despite its former resident still being here. Most of my stuff was still in boxes, but Mom had made up my bed. My Victorian bedroom set-inherited from my grandmother-looks perfect in this room. The walls were painted a fresh cream color; the carpet is a deep blue. The curtains in the bay window are a light blue, as is the cushion on the window seat. Mom even bought new bedding, which is also blue with a hint of purple. Everything looks fresh and new, even the furniture had a new coat of polish on it.

I peer into the bathroom-still ignoring the ghost-and get another pleasant surprise. The size of this bathroom is much bigger than I had anticipated. Instead of a mean little water closet, I have a nice lavatory. There's a nice big tub that looks fully long enough to stretch out in. It's one of those claw foot tubs, and, according to Marymaia, is an original furnishing in the house, though thankfully has modern plumbing added to it. There is a rather small shower stall right next to it, which isn't so small I couldn't shower without smashing my elbows. The sink has plenty of cabinet space for one person and there is a large mirror behind it. The color scheme in here is the same as the bedroom, with blue tiles on the floor and cream colored paint.

I had finished my inspection of the bathroom when Mom came in, followed by Howard, Lucrazia and Hilde. The girls were carrying Lucy Fur and De'Mon. Howard and Mom had the last of my luggage. They set their burdens down, releasing the cats from their cages, and looked at me expectantly.

"Do you like it Duo? I thought about doing red and cream, but it would have been very dark, unless I put pink somewhere. I thought shades of blue would be preferable to pink. I know it's kind of extravagant, but you are the second oldest, and Lucrazia didn't want this room" She trailed off in the middle of the sentence.

"I love it, Mom, its perfect." I blithely lied. What else was I supposed to do? The only thing wrong with this room was that a former resident hadn't moved out yet. I couldn't very well share that little detail with my mother.

I glanced at my cats, pretty sure they wouldn't be too happy about our unwelcome guest either. Cats, and all animals, can sense ghosts and don't particularly like them. Much to my surprise, Lucy and De now sat quite calmly on my bed staring at the ghost. Man, even my cats are weird.

Something must have shown in my face, because the next thing I knew my mom was going on and on about 'new beginnings' and 'moving away from the past'. She continued to ask whether I liked this detail or that. Did I like the shade of the curtains? Was my closet roomy enough? Did I think I needed an extra blanket? Eventually, however, everyone finally decided to leave. The girls went to their rooms, Mom and Howard went to parts unknown and I was left alone.

Well, mostly alone.

"Alright, who are you and what's your glitch?" It's best, when dealing with ghosts, to be straight forward and not beat around the bush. This is usually the fastest and most convenient way to deal with them. Besides, I was tired and a little put out to see an unwelcome guest in my room.

This ghost, however, wasn't terribly talkative. In fact, at first he wasn't even sure I was talking to him. He actually looked behind himself, which only afforded him a fantastic view of some trees, before raising an eyebrow at me. "You can see me?"

"Sure can, buddy, and let me tell you, I'm not happy about it. So what's your glitch?"

"My what?" He looked extremely confused.

Apparently he was an old ghost and not familiar with current lingo. I should have figured that out immediately, considering he was dressed in what appeared to be homespun linen and cotton circa eighteen-eighty. He wasn't wearing anything fancy, just a green shirt and brown trousers with a pair of black boots. There was a floppy hat carelessly tossed on the window seat. Oh yeah, definitely not from this century.

"Your glitch," I explained patiently, "your problem, your reason for not moving on. You're dead, which means you aren't supposed to be still hanging around."

His very intense blue eyes fixated on me. "What if I happen to like 'hanging around'?"

Oh great, a difficult one. "Look, buddy"

"Heero."

"What?" I'm not used to being interrupted by seemingly pointless words. People, I tell you, lose all manners they ever learned as soon as they die. I have yet to meet a polite ghost.

"You called me 'buddy'. I thought you would like to know that I have a name; it's Heero." He remained entirely calm, not at all ruffled by my glare. In fact his attitude was arrogant and quite aloof, which didn't make me any happier.

"Your name is Heero?" I asked, quite disbelieving.

"Your name is Duo."

"Wrong, my name is Duilio. Everyone calls me Duo, because Duilio is too hard to say." I didn't really feel like trying to explain my parents' choice of names. "Look, either you clear out voluntarily or I make you leave. The point is, I want you gone before I come back up here for bed. Understand?" I didn't wait for an answer, but just turned on my heel and stalked out. I didn't want to, it is my room after all, but I had a feeling I'd lose any arguments I started with Heero.

It was midnight before I finally went to bed. I wanted to, you know, give Heero a chance to get out. He wasn't there when I climbed into bed, so I can only assume he found another place to haunt. If he hadn't, well, I'd have pulled some major ghost-ass-kicking moves on him.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Mediator**

Chapter Two

Amelia Notes: I had seventy-three visitors to chapter one and only two reviews. So be nice and review this one, hey? My birthday is on the 7th, so consider your review my birthday present!

I woke up the next morning hearing bird song. I'm not even kidding. There were birds singing outside of my window in the huge oak tree. The only birds I ever heard in New York were pigeons, and they aren't nearly as pretty as the two little birds in the tree. Mom must have snuck in and opened up my window earlier this morning. I make a mental note to thank her for being so sweet.

I'd been warned last night that I would have to amuse myself today. Everyone else had previous engagements and couldn't spend time with me. They all had jobs or hobbies. I wasn't particularly concerned with my step-family's absence, but it would have been nice to chat with Mom. No problem, at sixteen I think I can find some way to amuse myself.

A breeze made my curtains ruffle and brought the smell of earth into my room. I've pretty much never smelled anything quite like it. Oh sure, the city had Central Park and all, but that was still city; still metal and glass and fumes from cars. This was entirely different from a city park. That's when it really hit me.

I live in the middle of nowhere.

With that cheerful thought, I decided I might as well get up and unpack. I decided to shower and braid my hair before attacking the boxes. My shower was a little cramped, but the presence of the awesome tub only a few feet away made up for any shortcomings. I was out fairly quickly-I could laze around after I unpacked. I wrapped a fluffy purple-blue towel around my waist and started searching the boxes for clothes. It took me awhile, but I found the boxes that held everything I needed.

The rest of my day was spent productively unpacking. Just before dinner, I finished and stepped back to survey my handiwork. Clothes in the dresser and closet neatly folded and hung. Books were shelved and my computer set up for use. Various posters of bands adorned the walls. The place finally looked like a room I would actually live in, instead of the guest room it had resembled before.

I skipped down the stairs just as Howard started calling for everyone to come to the dining room. Have I mentioned that my stepfather is an awesome cook? Practically gourmet. Tonight we were having Hawaiian shish-kabobs and rice with this great pineapple sauce. All of the girls were at the table with Mom and Howard by the time I reached my seat. Lucy Fur and De'Mon were right at my heels, hoping I'd drop them morsels.

Howard and Mom had decided awhile ago that we should have family dinners without fail. The only excuse for missing family dinner was illness, death, work or school projects. Not that I'm likely to miss Howard's food.

"Duo? Sweetheart? Did you hear Hilde or Lucrazia?"

"Huh?" I blinked at Mom.

"They said they were going roller skating after dinner. Why don't you go with them? You'll get to meet some boys your age. We don't expect you to spend the whole summer in seclusion."

"Skating?" I stared across the table at my stepsisters. "Are you people serious?" They both just nodded at me. "Well, sure, if that's what the kids do around here." I smiled at them, figuring the roller rink was an excuse to go to an unsupervised party.

Boy, was I wrong.

Apparently, everyone under the age of eighteen hangs out at the skating rink. The place looks like a warehouse on the outside, except for the parking lot packed with cars. Inside was dimly lit with an array of colored bulbs and string lights. There were little mushroom like seats in groups lining three sides of the rink. The fourth side held an honest-to-God soda fountain and diner area. The waitresses were on skates. It really looked like it was straight out of the fifties.

Lucrazia, Hilde and I rented skates-skates, not roller blades-for three dollars a pair. The girls put their own on quick and were gone in a flash, skating away. Apparently, that was as far as they were willing to help me. They left me staring at the ugly brown skates on my feet and wondering whether I was brave enough to actually try this.

At least I had worn my Gucci jeans and Godsmack t-shirt. I would look amazingly fashionable as I fell flat on my ass.

"Aren't you going to skate?"

I looked up into the eyes of an angel.

Okay, not really, but pretty close. He had soft-looking golden-blonde hair that framed a most cherubic face. Those eyes of his were blue-grey-green and big. He looked like the type of person you ran to for hugs. The kind that rescues kittens and puppies.

"Umm, I don't know how," I told the guy.

He laughed, a very sweet laugh, and offered me his hand. "I'm Quatre Raberba-Winner, this is Trowa Barton. He's the best skater in the county, if he can't teach you, you're hopeless."

For the first time I noticed the guy standing behind Quatre. He was fairly tall and looked very comfortable in his skates, not even bothering to steady himself on the chairs like Quatre was doing. His brown hair fell messily into his eyes, obscuring the color of said orbs. He practically oozed silence.

I grinned at them both and shook Quatre's hand. "I'm Duo Maxwell. Umm, Hilde and Lucrazia's stepbrother." I offered my hand to Trowa as well. He took my hand and hauled me to my feet. I nearly fell forward, but Quatre steadied me.

"We know who you are," Quatre told me cheerfully. "Lucrazia-though everyone calls her Noin-is Trowa's sister's best friend. They're both on all the sports teams. Noin told Cathy about you and Cathy-that's Trowa's sister-told Trowa."

I blinked at him. "You talk faster than me, and I'm from New York."

That made both of them laugh, which made me laugh too. I guess that sort of sealed our friendship. About fifteen minutes later I could skate between the two of them with little to no mishaps. I could even stop without plowing into the floor. We decided to rest and get something to drink after I complained about my ankles hurting. It wasn't just my ankles either, my legs were tired. I knew I'd be sore in the morning.

Trowa carried my drink as he led us to a booth. I was quite grateful for the Mountain Dew, skating took a great deal of energy. I was also grateful Trowa offered to carry it, since I would most likely spill it. Though I was able to slide gracefully into the booth.

We spent the rest of the night chatting and skating. When I finally got back to the house it was close to midnight and beginning to rain. I crawled into bed and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

**We interrupt you're regularly scheduled reading time for this important message from the author.**

**Chain **I thought Duo would make a good Suze, they have similar personalities. Heero as Jesse was a bit of a stretch for me. I wasn't sure whether to put him or Wufei in the role, but Wufei fit another role better (not telling who), so Heero got it by default. Of course, Trowa and Quatre are Adam and CeeCee (respectively). As for Heero being Japanese, I cringe at the general history of the Ozarks that I'm warping to fit my plot. Most of the folks in the Ozark foothills are European, especially Scottish, Irish, Welsh and English. I call it artistic liscense.

**e** Thank you for the birthday wishes. Glad you like the atmosphere. While this is a "supernatural" fic, it is not meant to be particularly suspenseful or scary, but rather funny. As for Quatre being an empath? So not telling. Heero is definitely not the only spook around, nor the scariest. Duo's name being something other than just "Duo" (because who is actually ever named Duo?) came from the original BETA for this story. Unfortunately I no longer have her name or contact info as this was originally written and BETAed about three years ago. "Duilio" came from going to behindthename(dot)com and searching "Duo" so it pulled up similar names.

**cookie monster 16 ***munches cookies* Don't worry, no rape. If I were going to do that, the rating would be higher.

**Rebecca Thatcher ***lol* Glad you figured out how to review! I'm also glad you like the skating rink. I ripped the description straight from the one I spent my entire childhood and teenage years at, with a few improvements. Mine only played country (though I can line dance in roller skates thanks to that, not something many people can say). Don't be concerned about continuing. I've got all sorts of plans and this is going to end up as a very long story.

**This has been an important message from the author. Now back to your regularly scheduled reading time.**

**The Mediator**

Chapter Three

* * *

"Duo, wake up sweetie, I'm taking you to sign up for school today."

I managed an inarticulate moan to let Mom know I was awake. My God, my legs hurt! I glanced at my clock and sighed with relief, it was nine o'clock. I had plenty of time to get ready before our eleven o'clock appointment with the principal of Oak Grove High School. I could use that time constructively laying in my tub until hot water soothed the aches out of my muscles.

I stumbled into the bathroom and filled the tub with steaming hot water. The temperature was so high I could barely stand it, but it did the job. When I got out of the tub my legs didn't feel quite so bad. At least I wasn't wincing with every step. I made sure to select an outfit that didn't scream "not from around here" and "out-of-towner" even though that meant forgoing my FCK H8 shirt. I neatly braided my hair, taking extra care.

I figured me and the principal of Oak Grove were going to know each other fairly well by this time next year. Being a Mediator guarantees some run-ins with authority figures. I thought it would be best to make a good impression, since in a few weeks he'd probably be suspending me. I'm not a bad kid, but I do tend to get into fightswith people no one else can see.

Finished with my preparations, I skipped down the stairs, jumping them two at a time. Mom greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, giving me an appraising look. I congratulated myself when she found nothing wrong with my attire, though her hands itched to chop my braid. She began reciting what sounded like a carefully thought out speech on making good first impressions and starting fresh.

I'd love to be your normal teenage boy, Mom, but the ghosts won't let me.

The high school was situated high on a hill overlooking town. The building was white stucco with bright red trim with big windows. It looked a bit like a prison someone tried to cheer up with a bucket of paint. The inside was a bit more inviting than the outside. Like my house, the school was old. It was floored in really old wood floors that had worn paths where students walked. All the walls were white, with giant red lightning bolts painted on them. Our mascot, I was later to learn, is the Zizzer, represented by a bolt of lightning. What the hell a Zizzer is, I have no idea, but whatever. The lockers were painted the same bright red as the lightning bolts.

Principal Chilton ended up being an elderly man with a shock of white hair standing on end. He looked a bit like Albert Einstein without the mustache. He wore very casual clothes, khakis and a polo shirt. This struck me as odd, because my old principal always wore suits, even during the hottest days of the year.

While Mom and Principal Chilton chatted I focused on the one thing out of place in all of this.

She stood behind and slightly to the left of Principal Chilton's chair. She looked older than me, Noin's age, maybe, or older. Her clothes were modern, just white caprice and a maroon polo shirt. She wore glasses and had her hair done up in two buns on either side of her head, just behind her ears. Someone should have told her the Princess Leia look went out in the eighties. I estimated her death had been recent, either in the spring or earlier this summer. Her aura pulsed slightly, a sure sign this ghost was pissed.

"Why don't you fill out these forms while Duilio and I get to know each other?" Principal Chilton handed Mom a huge stack of forms. He smiled at me, as if he knew that I wasn't at all interested in getting to know anybody. Mom just took the papers and went to sit in the lobby.

"Well, Duilio, how do you like Oak Grove?"

I tore my eyes away from Princess Leia. "It's not too bad."

"I see. Beth? Would you please stop glaring?"

I gaped at him. Seriously, my mouth hung open and my eyes bugged out. He had just addressed the ghost! My mind whirled. Could he see her too? He must, or he wouldn't know she was there. What did this mean? I wasn't the only mediator?

"Whatever, Mr. Chilton. That loser can't see me. He may be a long-haired freak but he isn't that freaky."

I regained my ability to speak after that string of insults. "I am not a loser, Princess Leia, and you're the freaky one here, since you're dead."

Now it was her turn to stare before stalking out, through the wall, in a huff. Principal Chilton just smiled. "I thought as much, Duilio-"

"No one but my mom calls me that. I go by Duo."

"Very well, Duo-"

"And why are you so calm? You can see her, can't you?"

"Yes, I can see-"

"Do you see lots of ghosts?"

"I see them all the time-"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Duo, I am thrilled that you've come here. I knew when I saw your record that you must be one of us-"

"Us? Are there more?"

Mr. Chilton frowned. "There must be. Now, your mother should be done with those forms soon. I just wanted a chance to talk with you about our gift in private. Here's my number at home if you'd like to talk more before school starts up again. Feel free to call. Ah, yes, and leave Beth to me. I've known her family for years."

"Sure, whatever, Mr. C."

"Thank you. Ah! Mrs. Akers, Duo and I were just discussing some of our extracurricular activities"

I listened to Mom and Mr. Chilton chat about sports and clubs that the school had. There were quite a few for a small school, but that wasn't what I was thinking about. Another mediator. I had never dreamed of finding another person with the same ability. Okay, well, I'd dreamed of it, but I'd also dreamed of meeting David Bowie. Granted it didn't change much, unless Mr. Chilton knew some sort of super-mediation technique. All it really meant was that I wasn't one-of-a-kind like I had thought.

"Here is your schedule Duo, the highlighted classes can be changed, if you'd like, when school starts. Do you have any questions?"

I took the proffered paper from Mr. Chilton's hand. Any questions? I had a million, but none could be asked in front of my mother. Instead, I said I didn't have any questions. Mom shook hands with Mr. Chilton and we left the school. My mind was still spinning when I finally thought to look at my schedule halfway back to the house.

Oak Grove High worked by the seven-hour schedule with a break for lunch. My first class was English, followed by Biology, American History and Art. My lunch break hit around twelve-thirty. My afternoon classes were Algebra, P.E. and Health. Only Art and P.E. were highlighted as being able to change. I wondered what I could change them to, and then figured that it would probably be best not to bother.

I glanced out the window just as we passed a big cemetery. That was probably a bad omen.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Mediator**

Chapter Four

**Amelia Notes:** All the information about horses and horseback riding provided here is true. I'm no expert, but I have been riding most of my life. I included the horse-lessons because I want all my readers to be familiar with horses. I plan on using them extensively in this story and it will be easier if my readers are acquainted with horsemanship. I tried to keep it short and to the point. Sorry if it bores you.

* * *

I guess everything was just going too right. Really, since when had my life been good? From my new friends Quatre and Trowa to meeting another mediator, everything was going just way too swimmingly. Something has to go wrong. It's like Murphy's Law or something. When everything goes right something will go immediately wrong, in a big way. There is absolutely no other way to explain it.

He's here to make my life miserable.

Heero, I mean.

When I came home from the meeting with Mr. Chilton he was there, sitting in my window seat; reading my book, like he belonged. I was so taken aback that I just stared at him for a few seconds. He hadn't been around since I'd threatened him, what was he doing back?

"What the hell are you doing here?" Okay, so maybe I haven't been very nice to the guy, but he just rubs me the wrong way. Seriously, it's my room and he should get out. The living have precedence over the dead.

"I'm reading," he answered.

I counted to about ten, so as to not scream at him. "I asked you to vacate my room. Now, I know I wasn't particularly polite, but I meant what I said. Either clear out or I'll make you leave. I can, you know." I added the last bit because he was giving me this level gaze that just screamed disbelief.

"This young woman, Beth, she died very recently. She's very angry; you shouldn't confront her by yourself."

That caught me off guard. "What? Have you been _following_ me?"

"She's very dangerous."

"You didn't answer my question."

He gave me an oblique look. "I've been keeping an eye on you, yes. Allow this Mr. Chilton to assist you-"

"Do I have to exorcise you?" Finally, I got his attention with that statement. At least, he stopped talking. "Look," I say, "I'll let you stay and hang around here, but you have got to stay out of my business. And as for Beth, I can handle it. I've been doing this for years, buddy, and I know what I'm doing."

"Duo!" Mom's voice floated up the stairs. "There is someone here to see you!"

Sending Heero one last look, I left my room and bounded down the stairs. I wondered who could be visiting me. I didn't have to wonder long, because Trowa and Quatre were standing in the living room chatting with my mother.

"Duo, sweetie, your friends came to visit you!"

I winced at my mother's obvious excitement. I didn't have many friends back in New York, on account of my general weirdness. My only friend was Solo, and he was weird too. Maybe he's not as weird as me, but still a little odd. To Mom, Quatre and Trowa must look like a godsend.

"Thanks, Mom. What's up guys?"

Quatre beamed at me. He must have mothers falling all over him all the time, because he didn't seem the least bit upset about my mom's actions. "We thought you might like to come horseback riding with us. Trowa works at the Trail Rides, so they let him take horses out for free. Have you ever been horseback riding Duo?"

I blinked at him. He has obviously never been to New York. "Except for the horses they use to pull the buggies in Central Park, I've never even seen a horse."

Quatre's smile grew tenfold. "You'll love it! Put some jeans on-ones you don't mind getting really dirty-and some sturdy shoes!"

I did as told, feeling slightly bemused. My oldest jeans had holes in the knees, but I didn't think that mattered. I even owned a pair of cowboy boots, originally purchased for a Halloween costume, but quite serviceable. I was a little surprised to see Trowa driving a red truck, since I hadn't even realized he was sixteen. He was going to be a sophomore when school started, I knew that much. "Hey, do you even have a license?"

Trowa gave me a funny look. "Of course."

"But you're going to be a sophomore." I was seriously confused.

"I was held back a year in elementary school because I wasn't socially mature."

Quatre shot me a look and a wink. "He didn't talk."

"No," I said, dripping with sarcasm, "Trowa didn't talk?" The boy who simply exudes silence didn't talk as a kid? How come I'm not surprised? "So, where are we going again?"

"The Trail Rides." At my blank look, Quatre launched into a long-winded explanation. The gist of which was the Trail Rides were a tourist trap. Apparently they provided lodging and stabling for tourists who wanted to ride their horses around the scenic areas of Oak Grove. They also rented out horses on a daily basis. "Trowa's family owns their own horses, but Cathy has been monopolizing them," Quatre explained. "When school starts back up we'll be able to ride whenever we want, but right now it's no good to even try."

We were entering the Trail Rides now, if the big sign beside the little dirt road we were on was anything to go by. We pulled up to this big barn that didn't look anything like the barns you see in pictures. For one, it wasn't red, and two, it wasn't wooden. It was white and made entirely of metal. Several horses whickered inside.

Trowa and Quatre walked confidently down the aisle between the stalls. Several of the horses stuck their heads out a whinnied as they went past. I hung back; slightly afraid of the big animals I'd only seen at a distance before. It was awhile before either of them noticed I wasn't with them.

"C'mon Duo," Quatre called back to me. "Don't worry; Trowa will pick out a nice slow one for you."

I glared at him as I walked carefully down the aisle. They had stopped in front of the stall of a big, grey horse. It was whuffling into Trowa's hair when I joined them.

"This is Steel," Trowa told me. "He's big, but very gentle. Hold out you hand and let him get to know your scent."

I looked at the horse then looked at Trowa. "His nose is awfully close to his mouth."

Quatre didn't help matters by giggling. I shot him a glare. Trowa, for his part, didn't laugh or get impatient with me. He merely took my hand and guided it toward Steel's nose. I won't lie, I tried to pull back, but Trowa's grip was very firm. Soon the big horse was snuffling into my hand.

"He's so soft," I whispered, quite taken aback.

Trowa opened the stall door and slipped inside. "We use Steel for the most inexperienced riders. He just follows whichever horse is in front of him. I've never seen him spook, even when other horses did."

"Spook?"

"Take off, or bolt," Quatre explained cheerfully. "All horses will do it if they're scared enough."

"He'll take off?"

"Doubtful," Trowa replied, "and even if he does all you have to do is hold on until he tires."

"Hold on?"

Quatre smiled. "Don't worry, Duo, Trowa is an amazing horseman and Steel is a wonderful horse. Between the two of them, plus me, you'll be as safe as anyone could ever be."

Trowa nodded from his place beside Steel. While I wasn't paying any attention he'd slipped a harness of some kind around the horse's head. "I put children as young as eight on this horse by themselves. Do you think I would do that if I thought there was any real danger?"

I sighed. "No, I suppose not. He's just so big."

Trowa smiled and attached a rope to the harness. He led that big horse out of his stall and to what he referred to as a 'hitching post'. I followed at a distance, then joined him near the horse's head when he gestured me over.

"Beginning Horsemanship, Lesson One: Safety. When walking behind a horse, keep a distance of at least six feet. If you have to walk closer than that, walk all the way against him, keeping your hand on his hindquarters. He can see all around him, except directly behind. By touching him, he knows you're there. Also, if you're close, he can't get a full-force kick in if he takes it into his head to kick you."

"Really close or really far away. Check."

"No loud or sudden noises and always wear a helmet and sturdy shoes." He glanced down to check my shoes. "Where did you get boots?"

"Halloween costume."

Trowa nodded in understanding. "Lesson Two: Grooming. Always brush a horse thoroughly before riding. This gives you a chance not only to get him clean, but check him over for any injuries. Quatre, teach Duo how to brush while I get the other horses."

Quatre grinned and joined me over next to the big horse. We spent the next couple minutes giggling and brushing Steel. Quatre showed me how to get the coat as clean as possible, until it shone.

Trowa brought two more horses out of the stalls and introduced them to me as Valiant and Trixie. Valiant-called Valley-was what Trowa called a blue roan and Trixie was a palomino, which meant very little to me. They were quite pretty, though, as horses go. Quatre sent me a sympathetic grin before he went to groom the other two. Trowa bore down upon me.

"Lesson Three: Tack."

"Whassat?"

"Tack is the general name for the blankets, saddle and bridle. All the trappings that make you able to ride comfortably."

"Because riding bareback hurts!" Quatre quipped.

"After grooming you can tack up. First are the saddle blankets. What blankets are used and how many depends on a great many factors. You don't have to worry about that. Always check the underside of the blanket for anything that could rub or poke the horse. At best something like that would be irritating; at worst it could leave a sore which could get infected."

Trowa showed me how to check the blankets and where to put them on the horses back. He sent me into the tack room for Steel's saddle, which weighed exactly a ton. I was slightly put-out when he lifted it easily onto the horse's back. He quickly showed me how to attach the saddle to the horse-I was dismayed to learn that there was little more than a thick strap under the horse that would hold my saddle on.

"Now, this is the bridle. The bit-here-goes in the horses mouth. Attached to the bit are the reins, which allow you to control the horse."

I looked at the pieces of metal and leather in Trowa's hands. "How do you get the metal thing into the horse's mouth?"

"It's a bit."

"Okay, how do you get the bit in the horse's mouth?"

"Practice, mainly, but I won't make you do it today."

"Goody."

Trowa finished saddling Steel and went to help Quatre with Trixie and Valley. I contented myself with petting the big horse on his ultra-soft nose.

"I think he likes you."

I glanced up at the unknown voice. An older teenager with ginger-colored hair stood on the other side of Steel, one hand resting on the horse's neck. He was wearing one of those really traditional riding outfits like you see on T.V. You know, red coat, white pants and tall black boots. He held a black helmet and a riding crop loosely in one hand.

I was struck rather dumb by the picture he made.

"I'm Trieze." He offered a gloved hand for me to shake.

I accepted it shyly, not sure why I was being shy. "Duo Maxwell."

His eyes lit up in recognition. "Noin's little brother?"

"Umm, stepbrother."

"Of course. Are you here with her?" He glanced around the barn.

"No, I'm here with Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner. I've never ridden before," I added shyly. Oh my God, what was wrong with me? Since when do I turn into a shy little boy around impeccably dressed young men?

"Oh, I see. Trowa isn't really a riding instructor, you know, he's had no _formal_ training."

"You don't need certifications to know how to ride a horse!" Quatre suddenly appeared next to me, looking quite indignant. "C'mon, Duo, we want to get on the trail before it gets too late." With angry movements he untied Steel and began leading him out of the barn. I followed quickly, afraid that Quatre would mistake my braid for a lead rope.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Mediator**

Chapter Five

* * *

I followed Quatre to where Trowa stood with Valley and Trixie. I hadn't really thought that Quatre was the type to lose his temper, but he was definitely pissed off at the moment. Trowa noticed too, because he gave Quatre an odd look.

Quatre sniffed, the very picture of a miffed kitten. "Trieze was being rude, as usual. He thinks he's so special because he rides English style. As if Western riding wasn't good enough. And he's always wearing those prissy pants and coat. He looks like such an idiot."

They heard the clip-clop of an approaching horse. "As if scruffy jeans and t-shirts look better?" Trieze looked down his nose at them from atop his horse. "Duo, you really ought to be careful who you choose as friends. People could get the wrong impression about your preferences."

Quatre turned beet red.

"Enough. Go run your jumps Trieze, we're going riding." Trowa handed Valley and Trixie's lead ropes to Quatre and turned to me. "Now, next lesson: Riding. Always mount from the left. Put your left foot in the stirrup and hold on to the back of the saddle and Steel's mane. Jump and swing your right leg over his hindquarters. I'll help, since Steel is so big it might be hard for you to mount up."

I gave Steel's back an appraising look. "No problem, just like jumping through a window sill." I put my left foot and hands where Trowa had told me to and hoisted myself up into the saddle. It might not have been graceful, but it was effective. "Hey, cool."

Trowa gave him a small smile. "Good job. Some experienced riders still can't manage to mount Steel without a block." He shot a sardonic look in Trieze's direction. "Now, these are the reins and you hold them like this." Trowa adjusted my hands into the proper position. "Steel is plow-reined, which means that you used the reins to pull on the side of the bit you want him to go. If you want to go left, tug the left rein; if you want him to go right, tug the right rein. How sharply he turns will depend on how hard you tug the reins."

"Right. Got it. Where are the brakes?"

Trowa snorted with laughter. "If you want him to stop, pull back on both reins at the same time. To get him to go forward just give him a little kick in his sides."

"Doesn't that hurt him?"

"Kicking doesn't hurt them. Riding crops do, of course." Trowa shot another look at Trieze.

I was beginning the think that Trowa and Quatre didn't like Trieze. Wonder what gave me that idea?

"Alright, your feet should stay in the stirrups at all times. Toes up, heels down. Sit up straight. Stay here while Quatre and I mount up."

Obediently, I stopped slouching and stuck my feet in the stirrups. I found that sitting on Steel's back was actually quite comfortable and exhilarating. I watched as Quatre easily mounted Trixie. Trowa was even more graceful and looked perfectly at home in the saddle on Valley's back.

Curiously, I glanced over to where Trieze still watched us from atop his little horse (well, little compared to Steel). The older teen had a slightly sour look on his face, due in part-I'm sure-to Trowa's veiled insults. I allowed myself a small smirk.

The smirk was immediately wiped off my face when Trieze's horse began to buck and rear. Steel skittered sideways and tossed his head, putting distance between himself and the other horse. I clung onto the saddle horn for dear life, trying not to drop the reins. Noises to my right made me glance at Trowa and Quatre. Their horses were dancing around and freaking out as much as Trieze's mount.

That was when I noticed Beth, standing near the barn and laughing her head off. She noticed me looking at her and winked. I couldn't help but gasp. The little bitch! She knew she was the cause of the horses' panic and didn't care! Was she trying to kill someone! My question was answered as Trieze went flying into the dirt, apparently unable to stay on his horse any longer. He landed with a cry of pain directly under his horse's flailing hooves.

I screamed out a rather pointless warning. Yanking my feet out of the stirrups, I leaped off of Steel. I'm not sure what I thought I was going to do, but I wasn't going to just perch on high and watch someone die. Trowa was faster than me, however. He was off Valley and yanking Trieze out from underneath the scared horse before I even hit the ground. Rather roughly, he shoved Trieze toward the barn and turned back to the horse.

I realized quickly that Trieze's mount wouldn't calm down until Princess Leia was gone. Not thinking about witnesses or how oddly any of what I was about to do was going to look, I took off running towards the barn, where Beth was still laughing her head off. She saw me running toward her and stopped laughing. Her eyes widened when she realized what I was about to do, but she didn't have time to dematerialize.

I hauled back and punched her in the nose.

She screamed in pain and disappeared, but not before I noticed a very satisfactory stream of blood coming from her nose.

I didn't do her any permanent damage, of course, with her being dead and all. She hadn't been dead very long and probably didn't realize that the pain she felt was only there because she expected to feel it. Thankfully, I'd never met a ghost who stopped expecting pain when they got hit in the nose. Otherwise my job would be much harder. As soon as she stopped thinking about it, the pain would stop and her nose would heal.

Almost as soon as Beth dematerialized the horses began to calm down. Quatre had dismounted at some point and now held the reins of both Valley and Trixie. Since Steel had simply started munching on the leaves of a nearby tree, he obviously wasn't interested in running anywhere. Trowa was gripping Trieze's horse's halter and murmuring in a soft voice. Trieze was dazedly sitting on the ground staring at the horses.

Hey, no one must have noticed me punching thin air in all the chaos and ruckus. Cool.

Except Quatre was now giving me a funny look.

Well.

Shit.

I gave him my best charming smile and shrugged, praying that he'd leave it alone.

He did, thank God. Instead of asking me potentially awkward questions, he moved to the hitching post and tied Valley and Trixie before going back to Steel to drag him away from his little snack. Trowa tied Trieze's mount up too, before moving towards the other guy to check him for injuries. I joined him next to Trieze, being very familiar with various injuries, including, but not limited to: broken bones, burns, cuts and concussions.

Hey, what can I say, ghosts can be mean little buggers.

Trieze didn't seem to be injured, but Trowa advised him to call someone to drive him to Urgent Care for x-rays. Privately, I thought the guy was probably fine, just a little bruised and shell-shocked from the fall. In my opinion, he was being a major wuss.

Quatre sighed, sounding more exasperated than upset over our little adventure. He smiled at me apologetically. "I guess we probably shouldn't ride today. The horses were pretty spooked and they're still nervous."

I shrugged to let him know I wasn't particularly worried. "Hey, it's cool Q-Ball. No biggie."

"Alright," Trowa said calmly. "Let's unsaddle the horses." He gave Trieze an unreadable look. "We'll take care of Fancy."

Trieze didn't argue, but nodded and pulled a cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He quickly dialed a number and began talking to someone who was probably his mother. I snickered slightly at his obvious discomfort before Quatre drug me away to learn how to unsaddle the horses. Let me tell you, unsaddling is a lot easier than saddling, considering you just take everything off of the horse.

Trowa drove us home in his red truck, dropping me off first. I was actually kind of grateful to be home. I immediately went upstairs to take a shower, considering I smelled of horses, dust and hay. It had been a long day, so I showered quickly then filled my tub and soaked for a couple of hours.

While soaking I mulled over the Beth situation.

She was obviously pretty pissed off at something or someone. Most likely Trieze, since I hadn't noticed her paying any particular attention to Trowa or Quatre. From her actions, she was angry enough to want to cause some serious damage. Trieze was lucky she was newly dead. Right now she had no idea of what she could do as a ghost, but it wouldn't take her long to figure it out.

"I told you she was dangerous."

I barely managed to bite back a scream that probably would have sounded incredibly girly. Sitting cross-legged on the floor near the tub was Heero. He was giving me an odd look, which probably had something to do with my reaction. While I had been able to stop myself from screaming, I was not able to stop myself from jumping out of my skin.

"What are you doing in here?" I hissed at him.

"She's very, very angry at this Trieze person."

"I think I figured that out. Now, get out of my bathroom. I don't have any clothes on."

Heero snorted, which sounded odd coming from him. I mean, really, the guy seems pretty much as in touch with his feelings as a brick wall. Which only makes sense; they didn't exactly have Oprah or Dr. Phil back in his time.

"Baka," he muttered and disappeared.

I glared at the place he had been sitting. I was pretty sure I had just been insulted, but I had no idea what 'baka' meant. Hell, I didn't even know what language he was speaking in.

That little thought sent me on another tangent. Exactly what was Heero's ethnicity? His eyes looked slightly Asian, but were there Asians in this part of the country when he was alive? Has he not been dead as long as I thought? How did he die anyway? What was his unfinished business?

I sank deeper into the bathtub, contemplating my dead roommate.


	6. Chapter 6

**AmeliaNotes:** I didn't get any reviews for Chapter 5. Did no one like it? Did no one read it? Whatever happened, I hope you guys read, enjoy and review this chapter.

Also, on a more personal note, please hold the areas hit by the recent epic storms in your thoughts. I live in southeast Missouri currently and we're having some of the worst flooding in recent history, thousands of people in various towns in my area have had to evacuate or have had flood waters cause damage to property. It's still raining. My friends and family in Mississippi and Alabama are in the those areas worst hit by tornadoes. Please, just keep us all in your thoughts.

The Mediator

Chapter 6

* * *

Quatre called me the next afternoon to tell me we wouldn't be able to go riding until next week, because of some youth group that was renting the entire Trail Rides. Secretly, I was kind of relieved. Despite Steel's good nature, the big horse kind of scared me.

Oh yeah, and the deranged ghost.

He's still chattering as only Quatre can. My new friend talks nearly as much as a stereotypical teeny-bopper cheerleader. Except without saying 'like,' 'totally,' 'shut up' or 'oh my god.' I tune back in quickly.

"-party tonight at Dorothy's house. Pretty much the entire school is invited. I'm sure Hilde will tell you about it soon, since Dorothy and her friends are just dying," he said 'dying' in his best valley-girl voice, which was pretty good, "to meet the new boy. Fair warning, Dorothy is absolutely boy-crazy. Right now she's half in love with Trowa, who runs away from her as if she carried the Black Plague."

"Trowa's shyness extends to girls too, huh?" I was fishing, I knew it, but I had some suspicions about exactly how Quatre felt about Trowa and vice versa.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess so. He was going out with this girl named Mindy for awhile back in ninth grade, but Mindy's older sister Beth didn't think Trowa was good enough for her little sister."

"Beth?"

"Uh-huh, Beth and Mindy Une."

Could Beth Une be my mysterious ghost? How many people could have the name Beth in this little rinky-dink town? "I've, umm, heard those names before." I hoped Quatre would fall for it.

"Beth was the girl that died a month or so ago. She was in a car accident. I mean, you've seen the roads around here. It's easy to lose control if you're going too fast. She died almost instantly. Beth had just graduated from school as well. It's really sad."

Quatre was sounding very sad, so I decided to tactfully change the topic. "So, about this party, who's Dorothy?"

That ploy was definitely successful in distracting Quatre. About twenty minutes later I had learned that Dorothy was a royal bitch (my phrasing, not Quatre's), needed her eyebrows tweezed and was cousin to this guy named Zechs Merquise who Noin had a huge crush on. He was also a part-time model.

It might be a good idea to take Noin shopping sometime. If she's going to crush after a model she has to get over the 'jeans and a tank-top' look.

"Do you want Trowa and I to pick you up or will you catch a ride with Noin and Hilde?"

"Hold on, let me make sure they don't care if I tag along." I opened the door to my room and stuck my head out. "Hey!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "Lu-Lu! Can I ride with you to this party thing?"

"Whatever!" Her voice floated down the stairs from her loft. "Stop calling me that ridiculous nick-name!"

"I'll ride with the girls," I informed Quatre, even though I'm sure he'd heard the whole thing.

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Quatre?"

"Did you just call Noin Lu-Lu?"

I grinned, even though it was only to myself. "Oh yeah, she hates it."

"Right. You know she could probably beat you up?"

"Hey! Give a guy some credit! I'm not that weak!"

"Okay."

"I'm not!"

"I'll see you at the party Duo."

"I'm not weak!"

"Bye Duo!"

He hung up on me.

I grumbled a bit before putting the phone back on the cradle. I would have called him back to argue some more, but that would be pretty pointless. Besides, I'd called his house once and realized that Quatre has close to a gazillion sisters, all older, and all home from college for the summer break. Scary place to call.

There were several more hours before Dorothy's party, so I decided to explore the yard. I hadn't had a chance yet, so it seemed like a good idea. I pulled on an older pair of jeans (the grass was pretty high out there) and an old t-shirt, told Mom where I was going and made my way out the back door.

Our back yard is huge, or so I'm told, you can't see much of it. It used to be a pretty English-style garden, with lots of flowerbeds and hedges and little stone paths. Now it's just this big overgrown maze. It's a bit of a struggle to walk through, but I'm in the mood for some plain old physical activity. Maybe I'll even find a nice place that I can think. Either way, there won't be any ghosts.

"What are you doing?"

Well, screw it.

"Walking, or rather, struggling to walk." I refused to look at Heero.

"Why?"

"I wanted to explore the back yard," I told him. Just at that moment, my extremely graceful post-pubescent body decided that it was going to fall. Over something thorny. Into something equally thorny. "Oh sh-"

A strong hand wrapped around my upper arm and stopped my fall. Another hand grabbed my opposite wrist and swung me around, changing the direction of my momentum. Instead of hitting the ground and a bunch of thorns, I hit Heero's chest. I froze almost immediately. I hadn't ever touched Heero. In fact, I'd hardly even spoken to him. We weren't exactly friends, after all.

"Baka, watch where you're going." His slightly nasal voice penetrated my thoughts.

That word again! I'd have to figure what language he was speaking. I wrenched myself away from him, only to lose my balance and have him catch me again. This time, one of his arms wrapped around my waist, while the other held my forearm. Almost immediately I felt myself start to blush.

Oh. My. God. I'm blushing over a ghost.

I need a life.

He was looking at me with an unreadable look on his face. Probably trying to figure out what my malfunction was. Very carefully, I stepped away from him. His hands lingered on me (probably afraid I'd face-plant if he let go) for a few extra moments before releasing me entirely.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

He just nodded in response. "There's a path over there." He pointed off to my left. "It winds through the whole garden. The plants haven't flourished along it."

"Stupid weeds," I said, without any malice. I took his suggestion and began picking my way through the weeds, trying to find the supposed path.

"A weed is just a misplaced plant."

"Huh?" I glanced at him.

"You think they are weeds because they are plants in the wrong place. If it was in a field or meadow, you wouldn't call these plants weeds. However, since they're in a garden, they're weeds."

I stepped onto the little path, which was made of flat stones mortared together. The weeds, or misplaced plants or whatever, were less prevalent here, so I was able to walk fairly easily. "Did you just think of that, or have you been waiting to tell someone that for the last few decades?" I joked.

He ignored me. "The pond is that way." He nodded in the opposite direction of the house.

"We have a pond!" I exclaimed. So sue me, I think it's cool. I took off in the direction he'd indicated almost immediately. This time, I watched where I was putting my feet. There were fewer plants along the path, but the stones were uneven. "This garden will be so awesome when we clean it up. Mom wants to make it look like it looked when the house was first built, or as close as she can. She's really excited. We couldn't exactly have a garden like this in the city after all."

"This garden went to pieces when Mrs. Oller's gardener died."

"So, you were alive when this house was built?"

He just glared at me.

"Well, geez-louise, sorry I asked. I was just wondering what the old place had looked like." I gave him my patented 'I'm-just-curious-but-not-about-you' look that I occasionally have to use. Ghosts don't always like to talk about themselves, so occasionally you have to go about finding information in a very round-about way.

Heero continued to glare.

Okay, maybe my patented look wasn't working. This time.

"Whatever. Oh wow!" I ran over to the banks of the little fish pond, completely forgetting Heero.

In my defense, it was really cool. The pond was situated on the edge of the yard, screened on all sides by towering oak trees. The path led straight out across the water onto a decrepit-looking little walkway with a gazebo on the end. Lilies ran rampant all through the pond, covering the surface of the water with a layer of green. Occasionally, between the plants, I glimpsed some very pretty, and very large, goldfish.

"I think I found my new favorite place!" I announced gleefully.

"You haven't seen the rest of the garden."

Heero gestured for me to follow him. We walked around the garden until my watch told me I had better get back to the house or I'd be in trouble for being late to dinner. He wasn't so bad, Heero I mean. I guess I could handle having him as a roommate. The only weird thing was the bit about him being dead and all. It wasn't until we were almost to the back porch that I remembered I wanted to ask him what his full name was (when in doubt, use a history book to find out about a ghost!). I turned to look at him, but he had disappeared.

Probably to go haunt my room and read my books. Bastard.


	7. Chapter 7

**Amelia Notes: Very sorry this took so long! Unfortunately, the next chapter may take even longer! I work far too much. Anyway, enjoy!  
**

**The Mediator**

Chapter Seven

* * *

The party was in full swing by the time I arrived with the girls. We were what Hilde called 'fashionably late' because she couldn't decide what to wear. Even Noin had fussed with her hair, I assumed because of the presence of the mysterious Zechs. I had actually taken longer to get ready than either of them, but I started earlier.

The house of Dorothy Catalonia was quite large and very modern. It was also packed with what I assumed must be every teenager in the county. The large steel and glass rooms, decorated with black matte furniture, held so many dancing bodies that it was nearly impossible to move. The music blasted from recessed speakers in the walls and ceiling. There was even a bar-with alcohol-back against the far wall, with plenty of people crowded around.

My nose wrinkled automatically at the smell of beer and sweat. Immediately I split away from the girls in an effort to locate Quatre or Trowa. My best bet was the large patio just past the bar. I doubted Quatre would be one of the sweating, gyrating bodies on the makeshift dance floor.

"There you are!" A hand wrapped around my upper arm as soon as I stepped out onto the patio. I turned to see Quatre's megawatt smile. "I thought you'd never show up!" It was necessary for him to shout to be heard.

"Sorry," I shouted back. "Noin and Hilde took too long primping."

Quatre gave me another blinding smile. "I was just going in search of Trowa. He went to grab us some drinks and disappeared. He was probably accosted by Dorothy. Come on."

He grabbed my arm and started winding through the crowd, dragging me along behind him. I caught snatches of conversation as we pushed our way through.

"Is that the new guy?"

"Look at his hair!"

"What's he hanging around Winner for?"

I frowned slightly and examined my friend. Nothing wrong with him. Seemed like a normal guy so far. Guess I was just used to things in New York. Maybe Quatre wasn't popular around here, but I liked him well enough. Besides, it wouldn't take my new town long to figure out that I was weird with a capital 'W'. When you're known for talking to yourself and being caught in places you shouldn't be, you tend to be grateful for whatever friends you can get.

I spotted Trowa at the same time Quatre did. He was standing in a large group of people, seemingly held in place by a hand with wickedly long red fingernails. The hand belonged to the evilest looking girl imaginable. And I'm not kidding. Scary eyebrows, scary eyes, scary platinum-blonde hair. Even the look on her face is terrifying; she's wearing this big, simpering smile and staring at Trowa like he's the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Quatre stood on his tiptoes to shout into my ear. "That's Dorothy Catalonia-"

Ahh, the mysterious hostess.

"-and then there's Heather Rowlin, Annabelle Steeling and Courtney Byrne."

"It looks as though Trowa needs rescued."

Quatre grimaced. "Trowa is so shy and polite; he'll never just tell her to leave him alone." He seemed very hesitant. "Maybe, you know, we should just go back outside. He'll find us when he escapes."

I stared at Quatre in amazement. "No way, you said he doesn't like the girl, right?" Quatre nodded reluctantly. "Then let's mount a rescue operation!" I grabbed Quatre's hand and started dragging him over to the group.

They all stopped talking very suddenly.

I smiled a big, bright smile and waded in. "Hey there Tro! We've been looking for you!"

Trowa smiled faintly, but everyone else cast me looks that made me think I had a booger hanging out my nose or something. They were looking pointedly at mine and Quatre's hands, which were still linked. Quatre was surreptitiously trying to tug his hand free of mine. I ignored his tugging; pretty sure I had just figured out precisely what all the fuss was about. But, I'm from New York City. I've been to Pride like three times (okay, once was just to exorcise this really scary power-lesbian that was haunting her lover) and I have a shirt that says 'Some dudes marry dudes, get over it!'

I'm not the least bit concerned if these small town idiots don't like me because I'm gay. And I'm certainly not going to ditch one of two friends I have here just because he is too. That'd be stupid.

"Oh sorry!" I pretended like I just noticed the girls that were surrounding Trowa. "I'm Duo Maxwell, just moved in and all that. Great party Dorothy, I love to get drunk and pretend to be cool. Back in New York we never got to do this, we just vandalized things and sold drugs for fun!"

Ha, I think they believed that. Their expressions are priceless. While they're stunned by my excessive wit and sarcasm, I snake a hand in to grab Trowa and pull him away. Giving the girls a jaunty wink, I drag my friends away and back outside to the patio and down into the yard.

"What are you doing?" Quatre asks me blankly as soon as we are out of speaker range and able to speak in normal tones.

I shrug. "Saving Trowa from the evils of popular people."

"But-"

"Shhh," I whisper, "don't speak, you'll ruin the mood."

Trowa snickered.

Quatre stared at him with a look of pure horror. "Duo just committed social suicide and you're _laughing_?"

I opened my mouth to tell Quatre to chill out, that the popular kids were going to hate me eventually no matter what I said or did. I didn't even get a squeak out before my train of thought was interrupted by a blood curdling scream. I turned in surprise to stare at the house, where the scream had originated from.

"What the hell?" Trowa asked.

"Dorothy probably broke a nail." I shrugged, turning my back on the house.

Several more screams rent through the air. Trowa grimaced and took off running, as did Quatre. What else was I supposed to do but follow? Granted, when I reached the sliding glass doors I seriously regretted it. Everyone was running out of the house like maniacs, screaming and scrambling over each other. I was being buffeted by teenagers on all sides as they tried to escape. I expected a fire or a crazy guy with a gun or Jason and Freddy.

"Fucking hell!" I shouted when I managed to get a look inside. The place was filled with bugs. All sorts too, most that I couldn't identify (which isn't saying much, I mean, I knew what the roaches and spiders were, but that was about it).

Trowa, who was standing right beside me, just shook his head. "Where did they come from?"

"You mean this isn't normal bug behavior?" I tried to sound like I was joking.

"Of course not!" Quatre wrinkled his nose at the mess. "One or two bugs inside is normal, and of course, the ladybugs tend to swarm in the spring, but this isn't even all the same bug!" He leaned down to examine some of the creepy-crawlies nearest us. "And that is a brown recluse." He grabbed my arm and drew me back several feet. Trowa backed up as well.

"Wazzat?"

"A very venomous spider." A deep voice answered.

I spun around to identify the new voice. He was very tall, very blonde and excessively attractive. His hair was nearly as long as mine, but it was down and flowing around his shoulders. Slightly tan, athletic and absolutely gorgeous. I gaped in wonder.

"Zechs, we should probably send everyone home." Trowa addressed the Adonis. "We also need to make sure no one got bitten or stung."

While Trowa and Zechs (oh my God, Lu-Lu, you aim high!) were discussing what to do I started looking around at the party-goers who were amassed on the patio and in the yard. Dorothy and her gaggle of friends were clustered together on the patio chairs. Hilde was standing with a petite girl that looked vaguely familiar. Noin and some red-head-I assumed Trowa's sister-were sitting on the railings. Trieze was near them, and near Trieze was Beth who was laughing her head off.

Hmm, house mysteriously filled with creepy-crawly bugs...vengeful ghost laughing her head off nearby. Can you say 'supernatural phenomena' three times fast?

Yeah, I can't either, but I know it when I see it. Unfortunately, I can't confront her in front of everyone.

"I told you she was dangerous."

I was very proud that I did not jump out of my skin when Heero materialized right next to me. Beth stopped laughing and fixed her attention on Heero. My roommate, for his part, just sent her a glare that would peel paint and wilt daisies. Beth smirked and dematerialized.

Heero focused his attention back on me. "She might be young, but she is learning quickly. The insects were just a start; you must see how powerful she's getting? And she's only been dead a few months. Duo, are you listening to me?"

I was, but I couldn't exactly start having a conversation with Heero in the middle of the crowded patio. What, oh yes, I was just talking to my dead roommate about the girl who died recently. Beth Une, yeah, her. He's saying she's bad news. What do you think? Why are you getting out that straight jacket?

I settled for nodding once. Heero scowled a little bit, but seemed content. Oddly though, he didn't dematerialize. He just lurked nearby me, occasionally lurking right through Quatre, who was also standing close by.

Quatre shivered after about the fourth time Heero did that. "Shoot, my jacket is inside."

Trowa-who had given no indication he was paying attention-shucked his hoodie and handed it to Quatre. He went right on talking to Milliardo about getting everyone home safe and clearing out the house. Quatre gave him a grateful smile and pulled the hoodie on.

"Hey brat!"

"Yes, Lu-Lu?" I half-turned towards my stepsister.

"Don't call me that. You okay?"

Surprised, I turned to face her fully. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but concern certainly wasn't it. "Yeah, I'm okay. I was down in the yard with Trowa and Quatre when the shit hit the fan." I walked over to her, dragging Quatre with me (my ghost-shadow followed). "You cool? What about Hilde?" I craned my neck over the crowd to find the other girl, but couldn't locate her.

Noin just shrugged. "She probably left already with Mindy. We got a few hours before curfew. A couple of people are going down to the bridge, want to come?"

I glanced at Quatre. He was staring off into space, rubbing his chest. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "Earth to Q, come in Q."

He jumped about a mile in the air. "Oh! I'm sorry Duo, I must have spaced-out. What did you say?"

"Didn't say anything. Noin was asking if we wanted to go to the bridge-whatever that means."

Noin coughed. "Actually, Duo, I asked _you_."

I pretended I didn't catch her unsubtle insinuation that Quatre wasn't invited. "Well yeah, but Quatre would be coming too, so his opinion counts here."

Quatre turned faintly pink. "No, it's okay, go have fun Duo. I should probably call one of my sisters to come get me..." He trailed off.

I shook my head. "Hey, how 'bout this? We head back to mine, raid Howard's kitchen for goodies and watch a movie? Noin can drop us off before she heads to the bridge."

Trowa joined out little group. "Or I could drive us and Noin can take Cathy." He held out his hand to the red-head.

"Sounds like a plan!" She smiled sort-of apologetically at Trowa. "You guys can come to the bridge if you want." She handed him a set of keys.

Trowa just shook his head. "We'll be fine. Stop mothering."

Cathy just shrugged and tilted her head to the side. "Well be careful, don't do anything I would do and make sure Quatre gets back by his curfew." She grabbed Noin's arm and hopped off the railing, sashaying off.

No seriously, she was sashaying. "Don't do anything she _would_ do?" I asked Trowa.

Trowa wasn't really paying me attention, he was looking at Quatre. He seemed to be asking the blond a question without even speaking.

Quatre, for his part, did answer verbally. "Let's go guys. I wanna check out Duo's movie collection!" He then turned his megawatt smile back on.

We bid farewell to people and started walking away from the party and to Trowa's truck. It was fairly dark, so if I happened to catch Trowa reach out and discreetly squeeze Quatre's hand, I wasn't going to mention it.


End file.
